


Sleeping Beauty

by Vector



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-11
Updated: 2009-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-02 14:56:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vector/pseuds/Vector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Call me that again and I'll put your pretty face through the wall."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping Beauty

"Have a good night, sleeping beauty?"

Giriko staggers out of his room dazedly, running a hand through his hair. Justin's voice from a few steps down the hall feels like someone driving an ice pick between his eyes. "Call me that again and I'll put your pretty face through the wall," he growls by way of greeting as he turns away.

Justin, predictably unintimidated, falls into step beside him. "It's already afternoon. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were deliberately making it easy for me."

"Easy?" Giriko snorts, opening a cabinet. "Do I look like a fucking princess to you?" He downs a handful of pain pills with a few deep gulps of water, then splashes more of it across his face.

"Not particularly," Justin's bright tone makes Giriko's eye twitch. "But that only makes you unique!"

Giriko closes the cabinet again with a slam, and moves on. "I'm not some helpless girl you get to wake up with a kiss."

"No, I suppose you're not." Justin says, and pauses, the bass from his headphones audible for a moment in the silence. "I certainly wouldn't dare to kiss you until you've brushed your teeth. Tsk, tsk."

"If you don't like it, you can leave. It's too early for this shit."

Justin ignores him and sweeps an arm up grandly. "Although I suppose I did nobly rescue you from your castle and take you away!"

"There's no way anything you do is noble, shitty priest. And you damned well didn't _rescue_ me," Giriko snaps back, knowing it's a lousy retort even as he says it.

"Didn't I?" Justin says lightly, like he's forgotten, and Giriko's teeth grind as he tries not to think too hard about what his chances would have been alone in the castle against all of Shibusen's forces.

"You didn't, bastard. Anyway, I'd look like shit in a dress, so if you like your nose where it is you'll damned well shut up about anything to do with princesses."

Justin makes a considering noise. "I'm not so sure. But for now, I suppose I can oblige you. I have errands to run." And then he finally turns and walks away, leaving Giriko to fumble to the kitchen and try to convince his stomach to hold down some food. He blames the hangover and his gratitude for being left alone for the fact that he didn't pick up on what Justin was thinking and flay him open right there.

***

It's later that afternoon when Justin shows up again, leaning casually against his door frame. Giriko pointedly ignores him in favor of an intensely more interesting block of clay, but Justin doesn't acknowledge his distraction. "I'd like you to wear something for me," he says, like they're continuing a conversation.

"What?" Giriko says automatically, and then the morning and the bag in Justin's hand finally registers. "Oh, no fucking way in hell, perverted priest." His hand balls automatically into a fist and he takes a swing, which Justin dodges, infuriatingly.

"I'd make it worth your while."

"I'm not a whore." The air snaps briefly as his chains appear and clink down around him.

"And I'm not paying you for sex. Although if that's your preferred currency, I'm sure we could arrange something."

Giriko grins wickedly. "You saying you'd take it up the ass to see me in a skirt? You've got fucking weird tastes, brat."

Justin's doesn't contradict him, his smile steady on his face. "If you like."

"Ha." Giriko sticks his hands in his pockets, still glowering, and gestures to the bag with his chin. "Let's see what you've got." It's just morbid curiosity, and wanting to know the kid's secrets for future ammunition. He's not actually considering it.

Justin raises an eyebrow in a way that says he's not fooled, and pulls the clothes out of the bag. Giriko's not sure what he's expecting—some fucking ugly pastel dress with ruffles down to the floor, Sleeping Beauty out of a storybook for full humiliation. He wouldn't put it past the kid to find something like that in an afternoon.

But what Justin's got is a short pleated skirt with colored lining, and a sleeveless black shirt with laces most of the way down the front of it. On a chick with nice tits and legs it'd be pretty hot.

Which he is still fucking _not_.

He's still trying to figure out what the hell the priest thinks he's up to when Justin announces, "It should fit you. If you like, wear it for me this evening, and I'll be yours for the rest of the night." He drawls the last, full of suggestiveness out of fucking nowhere, and then turns to go without waiting for an answer. "I'll return in an hour."

Giriko spins up his chains to tear the clothes to shreds before the door has completely closed. Then he changes his mind. After a few minutes he decides that when the damned kid comes back he'll use them to tie him up and fuck him like that, show him what he thinks of his _offer_. That sounds like such a good idea that his cock gets kind of hard in his pants, and he grinds the heel of his palm into it absently.

The problem is that he's got an hour to wait and think about it, and if he thinks about it he knows he can't do it, knows the shitty priest will dodge and put up a fight until he either gives up and takes what he can get or starts knocking chunks out of the walls. The first at least means killing some tension, the second means Noah coming down to chew them both out, and neither of those sounds nearly as good as the kid stripped down and bent over to get fucked.

So with ten minutes left to go Giriko ends up growling to himself and deciding abruptly that he's swallowed worse shit to get what he wants.

He strips and changes quickly. He ends up pulling his socks and boots back on, because his legs feel too bare without them and he feels like kicking the shit out of something already.

He doesn't look anything like a girl. The shirt is pulled tight across his pecs, the laces gaping open. The skirt sits low and only makes it really damn obvious how muscular his thighs are. And he's not wearing anything under the skirt, but whatever, that's hot, right? Or whatever the hell the kid actually thinks he's getting out of this. He didn't agree to shave his legs or stuff his shirt or shit like that, anyway.

***

After all that, Justin shows up five minutes late. Not that Giriko's counting. But it's enough that he sits around for a few minutes wondering what the hell he's doing, and when he hears footsteps coming down the hall he pulls the door open seething with undirected rage.

Justin just looks at him curiously from outside. "Now, what would you have done if it wasn't me? I doubt you intend Noah or Gopher to see you like that."

"No way in hell. But I'd recognize your damn rhythmic steps anywhere," Giriko snaps. This isn't getting off to a great start. He hauls Justin inside by his collar and slams the door.

Justin closes the small amount of distance between them easily and tugs at the loose laces of his shirt, runs a hand down his hip to smooth the skirt. "Couldn't even manage to make this look neat, I see."

Giriko's grip tightens as Justin's hand moves lower, to his bare thigh. "You should fucking count your blessings, shitty priest." Giriko likes skirts, of course—likes how easy it is to get his hand up them, and the way girls look in them when they squirm. But it's fucking weird from this end, Justin's hand sliding up to cup his balls while the waistband still sits tight around his hips. "And I haven't grown a cunt, if that's what you were expecting," Giriko says, low and threatening, his hands close to Justin's neck.

"Of course not. Don't be vulgar." If Giriko wasn't getting used to the priest's fucking obnoxious lighthearted tone, he'd have missed the way that sentence was tinged with something else, almost like real disgust.

"Heh," he starts, interrupted by a grunt as Justin's hand tightens. But he's not here to psychoanalyze some shitty priest's kinks, anyway—he's here to fuck him. If they're both in agreement that he's not some blushing girl, he's tired of getting fondled like one. He kicks a leg between Justin's and shoves him away. "So get some clothes off and we'll see about you."

"Oh? Why such a hurry?" Justin says, without moving to undo a single button.

"Don't be fucking obtuse," Giriko growls. "I'm in your skirt, you said that means you're mine."

"Ah, well," Justin says, and inclines his head upward. "Oh lord, forgive me, but—I lied. I'm still your faithful servant."

Giriko snarls and moves, but Justin slides easily out of the way. "But I'll still let you have you way with me if you offer me something first." A smile. "On your knees, like a good boy."

"Like _hell_," Giriko yells, and swings his leg up. At least it's easy to move in the skirt. For some reason Justin's eyes just widen, and Giriko's boot catches him right in the middle of the chest. He falls backward, stumbling. Giriko grins in satisfaction as the rage runs through him, hot in his veins.

But Justin just coughs once and looks up. "Beautiful."

Anger swells again, but Justin manages to deflect his next kick widely to one side, and pull himself back upright.

"Come now," he says, brushing off the front of his coat. "It's still a good deal for you, isn't it?"

"It's not the deal we fucking made. Why should I believe you won't screw me over again?"

"You have my word as a man of god," Justin proclaims, "that I will not 'screw you over' this evening."

"Tch, like that means shit." But Giriko's dick is voting for taking the deal—it was expecting action, and now he's just standing there in a skirt, blood racing, and even being screwed over doesn't sound like such a bad idea compared to kicking the shitty priest out and having to deal with all of that himself. Dammit. "Fine. You can have your blowjob, but afterward I'm going to fuck you up the ass and you're going to like it."

"We'll see if you can manage it," Justin says easily, and for once he removes his mantle and long coat without further prompting, draping them over a chair, and leaving him in close-fitting black all over. He even takes out his headphones. He looks even more like a skinny kid without the bulk of the extra clothing.

"Would you like to move to the bed, so you don't hurt your knees?"

"Screw you," Giriko says. Justin sighs over-dramatically as he undoes the fastenings of his pants. Giriko moves in and shoves his hands out of the way, rucks his shirt up and gets his hand around his cock before he can come up with some sort of witty retort.

The stone floor _is_ hard on his bare knees, but he's not going to whine about something stupid like that. Weirder is the way that the chill in the air that close to the ground drifts up, the cold air raising goosebumps on his legs and curling around his balls. He pulls the edge of the skirt down further without thinking about it, and Justin hums slightly in satisfaction.

"Don't fucking say _anything_," he snaps. He can't exactly give the priest's obnoxious comments the response they deserve when he's got his pretty little dick in his mouth.

"Only if you promise to make noise," Justin says, then fortunately shuts up. Giriko growls low, which isn't exactly an argument, then grudgingly gives in and curls his lips over his teeth, moving down far enough that the head of Justin's cock presses at the back of his throat. Sometime he's really got to figure out a way to get the kid to suck _his_ cock. It's a lot bigger, and Justin's got such a pretty face for choking.

_That_ sounds good, and that's definitely why he's getting interested again, not the dirty moaning noises Justin makes while he sucks him, that any actual priest would blush to hear. The skirt's fucking strange, again, no constraint, just the soft fabric draping gently over his dick as it gets harder. Justin looks down at him with a smug look that makes him want to smash his face in.

At least the kid's still got no stamina, at least not like this. Giriko's jaw is barely starting to ache before his dick is pulsing in his mouth. He spits most of the come out onto the floor and wipes his mouth with the collar of his shirt.

Justin makes a face. "I suppose I should know better than to lend you anything I don't want to get dirty." He stretches, slow and satisfied.

"Yeah? You gonna take these back? Wear them yourself, once they're all covered in sweat and come?" The thought is way more hot than it fucking should be. Giriko rucks up the skirt as he stands, gets his hand around his cock. There's already some damp spots on the lining from precome.

Justin looks, and it takes him a moment to respond. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Then don't fucking complain."

"In any case, I'm not so insecure that I think I'm proving something by subjecting myself to uncomfortable situations. _I_ would like the bed," the priest says, and turns to walk back to it, stripping off his shirt as he goes like he owns the place.

But Giriko just grins at the flex of muscles in his back. The kid's not trying to weasel out of the next part, this time. He can act like he's in charge all he wants as long as he spreads his legs.

Justin keeps going, stripping to the skin, and _finally_ he's got the kid buck naked and stretched out on his mattress. Giriko pulls open a drawer with a clatter and pulls out a half-empty tube of lube. "Would you like me to keep the skirt on when I fuck you?" Even if he manages to keep his voice mostly friendly, after a second he can't manage to suppress a feral grin, because there's no way Justin can answer that that would be bad. If he says yes he's admitting that this is actually his fetish, not just a joke. If he says no he's as good as saying he wants Giriko's cock by itself—not to mention that Giriko'll be able to take the damn skirt off.

Justin pauses. "If you like," he says eventually, indulgently.

Giriko glares. After a second he decides, and just pulls the skirt up around his waist while he kneels on the bed over Justin. "Yeah, right, like I'm the one who likes it." The skirt's kind of a pain while he fumbles to get a glob of lube out of the tube, but it's worth it for Justin's reaction. Stripped down Giriko can see his muscles tense, and his jaw slackens slightly in a way that says he hasn't quite got his guard back up. "You want it face to face, then? Missionary position? I guess I should have guessed," he taunts.

"Alas, for I think my gospel falls on deaf ears," Justin lilts. It'd be a ridiculous statement usually, given his damn headphones, but it's obscene when he says it while shifting his thighs wide and high.

Giriko grins, tosses the tube away to the floor and hikes the skirt back up. "What kind of gospel is this, dirty priest?" And without further ceremony he presses two lubed fingers into his asshole. Justin chokes a bit and his muscles clench tight. Giriko's dick throbs. He slides his fingers in and around, probing. "Tell me if it hurts," he grins.

"I wouldn't give you—" Justin breaks off for a grunt—"the satisfaction."

"Tch," Giriko's tolerance runs out again and he pulls his fingers back, slicking the rest of the lube over his cock before lining it up. Despite Justin's words, it's intensely satisfying when Giriko pushes in, between the half-strangled noise he makes, his head falling backwards, and the tightness of his ass. "You look just as pretty getting fucked as I thought," Giriko says as he shifts out and pushes in again, this time much more smoothly. Justin's muscles twitch.

"Been spending—ah—a lot of time thinking about it, have you?" The kid's usual superior tone is a harder sell when he's gasping through it, Giriko buried in him to the balls. "What a naughty boy." And he can see his cock starting to get interested again, too.

Giriko snorts. "You like it," he says as he thrusts. "You like it that I don't pretend to be prissy like you, even if you're a bitch about it," he's starting to get his rhythm now, "you like it that I've got a big hard dick, even if you put me in a fucking _skirt_, and you like that I'm screwing you with it." He takes Justin's dick in his hand, gives it a few extra pulls to bring it to full hardness to make his point.

Justin laughs weakly. "You certainly lack something in the way of subtlety."

"And you damn well better like that too. I'm being fucking _nice_, after all the shit you've pulled today."

"I'll consider myself lucky, I suppose," Justin says, eyes glinting, and then Giriko thrusts deep and tugs and his head falls back with a fucking hot moan.

Giriko holds out as long as he can, because he's still counting himself lucky, too. He's never been patient, though, and it _is_ good—Justin's ass is tight and hot, the lube smearing wetly, and if he's obnoxious he's still lean and pretty, and looking damn good pinned underneath him. But the kid's going for his second time, and like hell Giriko's coming before him. Fortunately Giriko must be right about the kid liking getting fucked more than he lets on, because it's easy enough to bring him off, and he's not even paying attention enough to worry about the mess, and watery come splatters his stomach.

It's hot enough that Giriko's suddenly right on the edge, and he pins Justin's shoulders to the bed as he fucks him a few last strokes, vicious and quick, and comes settled deep in his ass.

That only lasts a minute before Justin grunts and shoves him off. His dick slides out slickly, and he admires how well-fucked Justin looks before standing up. The shirt is soaked through with sweat in places, and the folds of the skirt are damp with lube and come, and chafing around his waist. He skins out of the shirt easily, fumbles the zipper on the skirt a few times before dropping it to the floor as well.

Justin grimaces at him as he sits up. "Such terrible habits."

But Giriko just sprawls back on the bed. "You can wear the clothes back to your room, if you don't like it." He yawns, satisfied.

"Hardly. I'm going to go get cleaned up," Justin says, and walks to the back of the room.

"What, in my shower?" Giriko eyes him.

"Do you have objections?" Justin asks lightly. "You don't really seem to make sufficient use of it yourself."

"Tch, whatever." Not like the kid's going to booby-trap his showerhead, or something.

And as long as Giriko doesn't shower, he can easily get him dirty again when he comes back out. He grins widely as Justin turns his back.


End file.
